Into the Wind
by secondmezzanine
Summary: Noah stands on the edge of the Snyders' field, the wind whipping against him, the paper in his hand burning his palm. He wants this. He wants all of this. And most of all, he wants Luke. - A little angst, a little fluff, and a lotta smut!


**Disclaimer: **Sadly, I own nothing.

**Author's Note: **If you're interested in seeing the actual ATWT clip from 1986 which inspired this story, where a young Holden and Lily talk about the wind, check out  
.com/watch?v=P59BHjXLtmg for the first part, and  
.com/watch?v=uKci4yJctv8 for the second part—trust me, it's hot!

_Who am I to blow against the wind?  
__**- Paul Simon**___

Noah stands, breathing hard, at the edge of the Snyders' field, the letter dangling from his hand. The Illinois wind is humid despite the fact that it's almost October, and it's picking up speed with each passing minute. He licks his lips and locks his eyes on the darkened horizon. He imagines that this world, the Snyder farm, the freedom of the fields stretching around him, is all that exists.

He shakes his head in frustration, half-crumples the paper in his hand.

_Dammit, Luke._

Every little thing nowadays feels like a battle. He sees it in Luke's eyes all the time, when they're eating breakfast with Luke's family, when they're a sitting a few inches apart on the futon in Noah's dorm room while his roommate looks suspiciously on, when they're whispering good night on Emma's porch after everyone else has gone to bed. He sees the heat and the frustration and impatience there in the crinkles of Luke's eyes, the tension of his jaw. They're fighting an impossible battle, grazing fingers under tables and kissing behind trees on the farm and getting upset when one of them takes things too far and they have to break apart because they're never really alone. And when they _are_ alone, they keep letting their frustrations out by fighting about the stupidest things.

Noah runs his thumb along the edge of the letter. The wind is howling around him now, nearly whipping the paper away, but he clutches it tightly and reads the return address again, a friend of his father's from the Army, wanting to visit him.

"It'll be easier this time," Luke had said when he showed it to him earlier. "You're free of your father. You can tell this guy we're together and you're staying here and that's that. It's not like we have to hide anymore."

"It's none of his business," Noah had said. "I'm not telling him anything." The conversation had sparked a debate that had ended with them shouting at each other from opposite sides of Noah's dorm room, ending with Noah accusing Luke of being insecure and Luke storming out, slamming the door behind him. It was not the first time it had happened. In fact, Noah sighs, it was not the second, third, or even fourth time it had happened.

He's been waiting for Luke to come home to the farm for a few hours now. The whole Snyder family has been staying here for a few weeks, so at first, he helped Holden with some chores in the stable, throwing his frustrations into the physical labor, but eventually Holden called it a night. Now the last remaining light at the farm is the porch light, left on for Luke, who is clearly trying to avoid him.

He's finally decided that Luke must have decided to stay in town tonight rather than come back to the farm when suddenly Luke is there, rattling his car keys in his pocket and walking slowly toward him in the darkness.

They just look at each other for a moment. Luke's eyes look apologetic, and Noah swallows hard. The wind is whipping Luke's hair into his eyes, screaming between them. "Hi," Noah finally says, barely audible over the sound.

"Hey." Luke stops a few feet away, and kicks at the long grass, unsure.

"Come here."

Luke's eyes drift toward the paper in Noah's hand. Noah shoves it into the pocket of his jeans. "Come here," he repeats, and reaches out for him. He slides a hand behind Luke's neck and pulls his body toward his own. Luke responds easily. They _fit_, so perfectly, that Noah wonders for the millionth time how there could ever have been any doubt in his mind that he belonged anywhere but right here. "I'm sorry," Noah murmurs into Luke's hair.

Luke's arms wind tighter around him. "Hey. I love you," he replies, pressing a kiss into the curve of Noah's neck.

"I'll tell that guy. About us. And that I don't care what he thinks, no matter what he and my father and whoever the hell else expected me to be."

"I don't care about that," Luke says, almost sharply. He reaches up and runs his hands through Noah's dark hair, squinting against the wind. Noah watches him. Luke feels so solid, so hot, like a life force that could sustain him forever if suddenly the wind knocked Noah's breath away. He hasn't really been breathing since he met Luke, anyway.

"I'm sick of this," Noah says, looking away.

"Sick of… _this_?" Luke questions, kissing him.

A ripple of heat shoots through Noah as Luke's hand trails down his chest. Noah grabs his hand quickly, pushes it away despite his desire to let Luke's hands trail wherever they want to go. He pushes Luke away almost forcefully. "No. Sick of fighting over the stupidest things. Sick of having to push you away like that because I can't stand getting so close just so I can take a cold shower later." He throws his hands up and turns his back against Luke to look out at the field. The stars are prickling the sky now, and inexplicably, he feels a stab of pain—something lonely, something like homesickness—at the sight. He hesitates for a moment. "Jesus, I'm sorry, Luke."

There's a pause, then, "It's okay." Luke's voice is steady. Noah wonders how Luke can put up with him sometimes.

"It's not okay. This is why we fight all the time. I let this shit build up, this frustration over my dad and coming out and not just being able to be a normal couple and just—fucking everything, and then I snap at you." He groans loudly and runs a hand over his face. "When did everything get so complicated?"

He feels Luke take a step toward him, and a moment later Luke puts a hand on his back. "I know what you mean… when I'm standing out here, like this, everything seems so… simple." Noah lets himself fall back a little, so Luke is supporting him, his arms wrapped around Noah's waist, his breath hot on his neck. The wind picks up sharply and even though it's warm, Noah shivers a little. "Windy," Luke murmurs against him.

"Mmm. Feels like a storm is coming." The air around them is roaring now, like they're trapped in the middle of a tornado, and Noah isn't entirely sure anymore whether it's just nature or it's Luke's heat on his back, their bodies fit snugly together, the roaring of blood in his ears. "The wind… I feel like I can't breathe."

Luke laughs softly behind him. "I like it."

"You would."

"Ha—why do you say that?"

"Because it's…" Noah touches Luke's knuckles, runs a finger over the curves and edges, marvels at the tiny differences between their skin. "It's like this wild, free thing. It's like… diving into something you can't control. It's a little reckless."

"Are you calling _me_ reckless?"

"Maybe a little," Noah teases, and Luke hugs him tighter.

"I overheard my mom telling my little sister a story a couple years ago," Luke says. "About when she and my dad were young. Really young. They'd just met. I think Faith was scared because the wind was so loud, just screaming against the sides of the house, like it was going to knock everything down. So Mom was telling her this story to calm her down, about how she and Dad were in the stable on a really windy night—"

"Please tell me this isn't a dirty story about your parents."

Luke snorts with laughter. "Shut up and listen. I mean yeah, I suppose it's possible my mom left something out about the story, but… I'd prefer not to think about that. Anyway, she was scared of how wild the wind was blowing—" as if to illustrate Luke's point, a few leaves blew up and around their knees—"and Dad told her that she just needed to face it. I guess he used to go out during storms and just stand in all that wind and lightning and just let it crack around him, like daring it to strike him." Luke laughed a little. "She told Faith he was trying to scare her a little, like maybe if he provoked her enough she'd fall into his arms or something."

"Did she?"

"What, fall into his arms? Eventually. They're married, aren't they?"

"No, did she go out and stand in a thunderstorm and dare the wind to knock her over, I mean."

"She told Faith she ran out into the wind just to get away from Dad."

Noah laughs. "What, he scared her that much?"

"I think it was more like running from her feelings. Or, you know. Whatever."

"_Whatever_," Noah repeats in a teasing voice. He leans farther back into Luke and looks up at the sky. "Well, okay, then. Here we are. Standing in the wind. Waiting for the storm to come knock us down."

Luke kisses Noah's neck. "You don't think we're in the storm already?"

Noah doesn't respond, just bites his lip and lets Luke kiss him. _Luke, don't_, he thinks, somewhere tiny in the back of his mind, but the wind washes out the sound and he's falling.

Luke's breathing picks up a little, and his hands slide down Noah's front, deliberating rubbing against him. Noah can feel himself getting hard at every touch. "God, Noah, I'm so… so fucking _tired_ of waiting and wanting you—"

The words are hardly out of his mouth when Noah groans and whirls around, capturing Luke's mouth with his own, tugging Luke's shoulders toward him hard. He curves an arm around Luke's back and scoops his hand under his shirt, palming the small of Luke's back and sliding upward against his muscles. He's not sure how long he kisses Luke, maybe a few seconds, maybe a few minutes, but he's getting hotter with every sound Luke makes. His fingers are hot against Luke's skin, whether from the humidity or friction or pure sexual need firing through all of Noah's senses.

Luke breaks the kiss to bury his head in Noah's chest. He pulls at Noah's jacket with both hands and presses his lips to the skin peeking above Noah's collar. "Noah…" His voice is raw. The sound of it is so alarming, so desperate and frustrated and sexy as hell, that Noah suddenly sees himself, sees the way his fingers are raking over the bare skin of Luke's back, sees how Luke's hands are sinking into the waistline of his jeans, how the wind is pushing them, daring them.

With a small cry, he breaks away again. "_Fuck_," he gasps, putting a few steps of distance between them. In the corner of his eye, he sees Luke reacting in kind, leaning down on his knees, breathing hard, shaking his head hard, just once. "Okay, _why_ aren't we doing this again?" Noah asks, ripping his jacket off. He feels like he's going to combust.

"Because… you needed space… after your father… and my family was having problems… and we weren't ready…" Luke sounds unconvinced of these reasons.

"I feel damn ready," Noah says angrily, glancing back at Luke. "I'm going to have to limp all the way home."

Instead of laughing, Luke just looks annoyed. "Don't get mad at me," he says. "You're the one who wanted to wait. I wanted to fuck you a year ago."

"Yeah, well, I kind of had a girlfriend then." Noah paces in a quick circle, willing himself to think of freezing showers and funerals and tragedies happening to puppies. He stops and sighs, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I brought that up. I'm just… just give me a minute to… recover."

Luke sighs and looks away. "It's not like this is an ideal location for our first time, anyway."

Noah wants to scream at him that he'd fuck him in a snowbank right now if that's all that was available, but instead he just throws his jacket down, sets his hands on his hips, and takes a deep breath. "Yeah. You're right. Look, I'm sorry. I'm just on edge tonight. I shouldn't have—"

"Come on. Not everything is your fault. I'm… defensive as hell sometimes. I expect you to be exactly like me. To want the same things."

Noah looks at him. Luke doesn't look annoyed anymore, just tired. He's stopped trying to push the hair out of his eyes when the wind throws it over his brow, and his chest is rising and falling visibly through his shirt. He's wearing his patient-supportive-boyfriend expression.

A wave of guilt rises in Noah's stomach. Luke has been a saint. A fucking saint. He never presses Noah, or at least when he does, he always backs off immediately. He forgives him for everything. He loves him. Luke loves him like nobody has ever, ever loved him, Noah realizes, watching him now, like nobody has ever shown him, like nobody has ever told him.

He kicks at the rippling grass at his feet. "Luke… if you think we don't want the same things, you're wrong."

"I know," Luke jumps in. "Just at—a different pace. And it's okay. I can wait."

"No," Noah says, raising his voice over the wind. "I want—I want this." He motions around, at the field and pastures stretching in all directions, the barn and Emma's house and cars parked in the driveway. "I want this home. This family. I want _this_"—he motions to the field and pastures stretching in all directions—"I want this freedom and I want to stand here in a storm not caring whether it's going to knock us down." He takes a step toward Luke, so quickly that Luke instinctively moves back. "Luke, I want—I want _you_."

Luke doesn't react. His mouth twitches like maybe he _wants_ to react, but is afraid to move.

Noah closes the gap between them. As if on cue, he hears thunder somewhere, whether it's the sky or his mind or in his chest, he doesn't know. He grabs Luke by the collar. "I want _you_," he repeats, his voice a growl.

Luke is frozen for another moment, searching Noah's eyes, and then, just as quickly, he's ripping off his shirt and helping Noah with his own. A moment later Noah has him pinned on the ground, straddling him, and pushing his arms above his head in the grass. He kisses Luke hungrily for a minute, swallowing up the guttural sounds that Luke is emitting and then licking his way down Luke's chest, touching him everywhere, running his hands up and down Luke's torso, trying to feel all of him at once. He can't wait anymore.

He undoes Luke's belt and zipper clumsily, moving too fast, but he doesn't care. This is happening. For a moment, he looks up, afraid to see Luke's expression because he doesn't want to stop, is afraid he won't be _able_ to stop even if Luke wants him to—but Luke is biting his lip, arching his back toward the sky, clearly impatient to have Noah's mouth on him. Noah doesn't need any more encouragement than that, so he quickly pulls Luke's pants and boxers down and covers the length of him with his mouth.

Luke lets out a primitive cry. His hands clutch at grass.

Noah stretches his hands up, raking his fingers down Luke's chest as he bobs his head over Luke's cock, sucking for dear life. He had worried over this moment in his dorm room fantasies, wondering if he'd know how to act with a man, how to please Luke, but now he's moving on pure instinct. His tongue teases the tip of Luke's cock before falling down again to take as much of him into his mouth as he can, gently grazing his teeth along the sensitive skin at the head. Luke is moaning incoherently now, still clutching at earth.

Noah thinks of all the times he's pulled away, made Luke wait for him because he wasn't ready, and smiles slightly at the sight of Luke's naked body now reaping the benefits of his tongue. He swirls it around a few more times and then whispers, "Come on, Luke. Come for me." Luke whimpers. Noah takes as much of Luke as he can and sucks hard. Luke gasps sharply and then he's coming, hard, and Noah catches his thighs in his arms as he finishes him off.

When Luke stops shaking, Noah climbs over him again and kisses his mouth, letting Luke taste himself before he moves to Luke's neck to let him catch his breath. "Jesus _fuck_, Noah," Luke finally gasps, his eyes trained on the stars.

Noah smiles against his neck. "I'm not done with you yet," he murmurs, reaching down to take Luke's cock in his hand again. He only has to stroke a few times before he feels Luke already coming back to life.

Luke groans and takes his shoulder, flipping him over. Wasting no time, he yanks Noah's pants down and takes the length of him in his hands. There he slows his movements, pumping Noah's cock purposefully, bottom lip caught temptingly in his teeth.

Noah panics slightly. His senses are instantly overloaded. He's never seen anything as beautiful as Luke's flushed skin, never felt anything so amazing as Luke's rough hands touching him, never felt so out of control and terrified and alive all at once. He tries to lean up, unsure if he's going to stop Luke or tell him to slam into him right _now_--

"Fuck me, Noah."

Noah's propped halfway up on one elbow when he looks up to meet Luke's eyes, quivering with uncertainty and desire and something else he can't identify. All he knows is that he's going to do whatever Luke asks him right now, terrified or not. They scramble on the ground for a moment, wind still roaring in their ears, until Noah's pressing him down into the grass again and somehow he's worked two fingers up into Luke, tight and hot and scary as anything he's ever known. _Breathe, dammit, breathe_, Noah shouts at himself, and he stops for a minute, resting his forehead on Luke's shoulder.

"Noah," Luke is saying. "Hey. You okay? You want to stop?" His voice breaks over the words, like if Noah says yes he's going to combust right here.

Noah lifts his head, breath coming fast. "Hell no." A rational thought strikes him and he quickly leans back to find Luke's jeans balled in a heap. He finally rips Luke's wallet out and finds the condom tucked inside.

"Hey," Luke says, halfway delirious. "You know… about that…?"

"Please," Noah says, tearing it open with his teeth. "You're patient, but you're not subtle."

A moment later he's rolled the condom onto himself. He spits on his hands and gently rubs his fingers over Luke and himself, wishing they had something to make it more comfortable for Luke, although the way he's whimpering and rolling his head back and forth in the grass makes it seem like he's doing just fine. Noah pressed his fingers back into him, trying to loosen him up a bit, and—

"_Dammit_, Noah, just do it already!" Luke pleads. He doesn't have to ask again. Noah plunges forward.

They cry out, foreheads together, and breathe. It's hot and soft and hard and there are a million sensations shooting through him. He thinks he could come just looking at Luke's face, thinks all the fights and pain and hurt and waiting was worth it for this moment, finally locked together like they'll never be broken apart.

And then he moves inside Luke. He's not exactly a virgin, but this feels like sex times a thousand. _I get it now…_ he thinks. _I get it._.

Then he can't think anymore, can only move, trying to hit that spot, again and again, that spot that makes Luke lift his head and throw it as far back as he can on the ground, and when he feels Luke's cock pressing hard against his belly he loses it entirely, just lets his voice get lost in the wind, lets Luke feel how he loves him with every touch and whimper and breath, lets the world crack open around him. Like standing in a thunderstorm.

Like daring it to knock them down.

~


End file.
